


The Lion and the Rabbit

by begleiter



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/begleiter/pseuds/begleiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his third year at Seirin High, Furihata is promoted to captain. Though he doesn't expect much from himself, he resolves to help his team by accomplishing one simple but impossible task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion and the Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> Character tags will be updated as chapters are posted.

The third and final year for Seirin's founding members ended in a narrow loss to Yosen at the Winter Cup—revenge, Himuro had told them, for their first loss at last year's Winter Cup and second loss at the following Interhigh. The locker room after the game was a strange mix of high and low spirits, the upperclassmen's joy at taking home two titles in three years at odds with the knowledge that this was their last tournament with their team.

When it came time to name next year's captain, no one seemed particularly surprised when Hyuuga turned to Furihata and wished him good luck. As Fukuda put it, Kagami was too brash, Kuroko was too invisible, and he and Kawahara hadn't played nearly as often as Furihata had. They had certainly been happy, though, and it had taken most of ten minutes for Riko to calm the team down long enough to heard them away from the arena and out to dinner.

Furihata ate with the knowledge that Seirin was going to have a difficult third year with three of their key players retiring all at once. Riko's announcement that she was to stay on board as coach (something about a part time job, college credits, and two birds with one stone) came as a huge relief. When they were finished with dinner, Furihata left for home with a renewed sort of confidence. Even if he was a complete disaster as captain, Riko was more than competent as a coach. He doubted the team would need him the same way they had needed Hyuuga. The realization was somewhat liberating.

But Riko and Hyuuga both had faith in him. The very next time they met for a post-season practice session, Riko and Hyuuga sat him down and explained what he could expect in his new role They were straight-forward and matter-of-fact. When they paused it was to ask him for his ideas on how to handle any problems he might end up encountering; that Furihata understood what was being asked of him seemed to be taken for granted, and he left the meeting with a giddy sort of self-confidence bubbling in his chest. 

Furihata decided that he wasn't going to sit on his heels and do nothing for his last year of the team. Both the team and their coach deserved better from their captain. The very first practice of his third and final year at Seirin he'd arrived with a notebook and a brain full of potential tactics, recruiting strategies, and training suggestions for their future starting lineup. Riko seemed surprised but appreciative of his enthusiasm. To Furihata's delight she even incorporated many of his suggestions into her own plans. It was exactly the push Furihata had needed. He threw himself wholeheartedly into his new role, resolving to be just as good of a captain as Hyuuga had been.

Even so, he hadn't expected himself to make such a reckless decision.

In hindsight, he supposed he was allowed to blame one Kazunari Takao for putting the idea in his head. Furihata had spoken with Takao briefly after their second year's Interhigh, congratulating him on his promotion to captain of Shuutoku and discussing the finer points of their shared position. Kagami had given him the impression that Takao was difficult to get along with, but Furihata found that he rather liked his fellow point guard. Takao apparently felt the same and the two of them had become friends, meeting on their rare mutual days off. Furihata had actually been among the first to visit Takao when he'd been injured played against Kirisaki Daiichi in the Winter Cup preliminaries that same year.

On the fateful day in question, Furihata and Kuroko had been visiting Kyoto to watch one of Rakuzan's preliminary matches for the Interhigh. They were leaving after the game's conclusion (a clear victory in Rakuzan's favor) when he spotted Shuutoku's captain in the crowd. Or rather, first he had spotted the _vice_ -captain: Shintarou Midorima. Takao only took a second to locate after that.

"Takao-kun!" Furihata waved his hand above his head, hopping a little as he did. It took less than a second for Takao to notice him. The other captain lifted his hand in a return wave and began to slip through the crowd towards Furihata and Kuroko. Midorima stayed where he was, looking after Takao with a mild but irritated expression.

"My, my, my. Are you spying on Rakuzan, too?" Takao broke into a grin as he spoke, slinging an arm around Kuroko's shoulder. Kuroko quickly adopted an expression that mirrored Midorima's. "Seems to be a popular hobby these days."

The denial that they were _spying_ died in Furihata's throat. "Really? There were other teams here?"

"Mmhm." Takao held up his free hand. "Today alone there's me and you—" He folded down two fingers as he spoke. "—and I saw the coach from Seihou and Kaijou's vice-captain at their practice game the other week—" He folded down two more fingers. "—and now that Kirisaki Daiichi lost their old captain—" Takao crinkled his nose as he curled his thumb across the rest of his fingers. "—it seems like they mean to play seriously, because I've seen a few of them were at each one of those games."

"That's a lot," Furihata murmured, unable to resist feeling impressed. It seemed that other teams were still taking Rakuzan seriously despite the absence of their three Uncrowned Kings.

"Mm," Takao agreed. He finally released Kuroko. "Of course..." He trailed off with a grin before continuing. "Rakuzan's not the only popular team. I've seen people spying on every team that has a Miracle. And don't think we haven't noticed Fukuda lurking around during our games, Furi."

Furihata didn't try to deny the accusation. He also didn't try to fight the faint flush that was crawling across his cheeks. "Everyone is saying the tournaments will be even better this year."

"Ah, really? Well..." Takao offered a shallow shrug. "I agree. Yosen's offense is almost on par with their defense, Touou's recovering from last year, and Kaijou's just getting better and better. "

"Shuutoku has been doing well, too."

"Of course! Really..." Takao glanced aside, then back at Furihata. His grin hadn't faded, but his expression had become less friendly. "It's Seirin I feel bad for. Rumor has it the loss of your senpai really crippled you guys." Furihata scowled, feeling his face grow hot as he opened his mouth to snap out a retort. Takao burst into loud laughter before he could get a single word out. "Jeez, jeez, relax! I was just teasing." This time it was Furihata's turn to get an arm slung around his shoulders. "Here, why don't we go get lunch, since our partners seemed to have vanished?"

With a start, Furihata realized he was right. Kuroko was nowhere to be seen. "Huh?" He looked around and realized he couldn't see Midorima anymore, either. They really were gone, then. "I thought I was finally getting used to that..." Takao barely knew Kuroko and had seen it before Furihata did. The hawk eye was beyond unfair, Furihata decided. "Alright, let's go get lunch."

Takao, for some reason, seemed to know of multiple cafes and restaurants in the city. The ones immediately surrounding the arena were packed, but they found seats at a western-style deli. They chattered as they walked, and continued after they'd ordered the conversation proceeded into the realm of small talk and polite inquiries about each other's school and teams and health—until something abruptly struck Furihata as odd.

"Takao-kun," he blurted out. "Why have you been focusing so much on Rakuzan?"

"Huh? We've been focusing on all the teams."

"No, I mean— _you_." The clarification seemed to clear up absolutely nothing. Takao stared at Furihata, expression blank. "I mean—you were at the game today. And when you talked about their other two matches you made it sound like you were at those, too. But you're the captain, so it would make more sense for you to spread your focus out, right?"

Takao continued to stare at him, silent. It took less than a second for Furihata's sudden confidence to begin wilting. He was beginning to fidget when Takao finally spoke again.

"Ha... You look sort of flakey, but you're actually pretty smart, aren't you?" Furihata wasn't sure what his expression looked like in that moment, but it made Takao grin. "You're right. I'm keeping an eye on Rakuzan in particular, this year."

Furihata's mind immediately set into motion. He'd learned last year that Takao was incredibly clever, even if he acted like an idiot sometimes. There had to be a very good reason for his close observation of Rakuzan. Furihata didn't think it was just because of Akashi's presence, but he had no idea how to even guess at what the real reason was.

He was so caught up in puzzling the answer out for himself that he almost missed it when Takao simply told him the answer.

"It's the Ankle Break." Takao drummed his fingers on the table. "Since we know how it works, I'm trying to see if there's a way past it."

Furihata frowned. He remembered Akashi's special technique very vividly. It was humiliating to be subjected to. It was also awe inspiring, how someone of such a modest stature could so easily knock over someone with half a foot on him.

"Is there a way?"

"Ever since your coach figured out that he can’t do it when it’s too crowded, he’s been careful to avoid getting put into such a tight spot again. So Shin-chan doesn't think so." Takao took a sip of his water before he added, "And I think I agree."

"How come?"

"'Cause there's too much to account for." Takao held up his hand and wobbled it back and forth. "There's keeping your balance normally, sure, but Shin-chan and I both think it has to do with intimidation, too. No matter how good your balance is, if you flinch when he comes at you, you're going down."

"That makes sense..." Furihata had no trouble believing it, at least. Akashi was a little scary even when he was calm. It was worse when he was focused on a game and intent on crushing everything in his path.

"Right. So on one hand, you could say that you 'only' have to account for balance and the intimidation, and then maybe you'll be able to resist an Ankle Break. On the other hand..." Takao shrugs. He lets his hand fall back to the table. "There's no telling how much you'd need to practice, not when he's got that Emperor Eye. You could work for months and get nowhere."

"So you think it's not worth it?"

"That depends, doesn't it?"

Their conversation about Akashi and his special techniques ended there—largely because of the arrival of food, but Furihata thought Takao was glad to be done with the conversation regardless. Eventually Kuroko and Midorima made their way to the café, neither of them explaining where they had been or what they had been doing. Similarly, neither Takao nor Furihata pressed for details. The four of them ended up all boarding the same train back to Tokyo. Furihata found that the additional company made the hours pass quickly.

His mind didn't return to his conversation with Takao until he was alone again, making his way home through the quiet evening. It didn't take him long to puzzle out the meaning behind Takao's final comment. Someone could learn to power through an Ankle Break, sure. It would just take months of diligent training, a lot of luck, and a _lot_ of perseverance. Balance training was part of any normal basketball training regimen, but dealing with Akashi would take far, far, far more than that. In the meantime, whoever tried to step up for the task would have to sacrifice school, regular practice, or the rest of their free time just for the effort to be worth it. Furihata didn't even know how someone was supposed to get past the intimidation factor.

On the other hand... no one else had ever managed to do it before, either. Players that marked Akashi too closely would be passed or subjected to an Ankle Break before they could really stop him. When teams tried to avoid the skill by keeping their distance, Akashi would just take shots freely or pass to the rest of his team. It was humiliating to experience and watching it happen to someone else wasn't much better. The demoralization was potentially fatal to any team's hopes for victory. To be able to avoid it—and not just avoid it, but to _resist_ it...

That would be something. That would be enough to encourage _any_ team. Takao thought that most people wouldn't be willing to make the sacrifice and risk impacting their other skills just for the sake of standing in Akashi's way. Furihata thought Takao was probably right. But just because someone was reluctant to do something didn't mean it wasn't worth it. Against an opponent as strong as Akashi, even little victories could make a big difference. Sure, keeping up with his the rest of his practice sessions and school meant that he wouldn't have much free time left to spare. Sure, his average might dip down compared to the rest of the team. Still... still, wasn't that the captain's job? Making sacrifices for the sake of the team? Leading them even if he wasn't the best player they had? And to stand against a player like Akashi, even if it was only a little, even if it wasn't a ploy that directly earned them any points...

That was worth it. He was sure of it.

Even so, it was hours before Furihata realized that he'd just decided that _he_ was going to be the one to stand in Akashi's way.


End file.
